


Let down your hair

by redroseinsanity



Series: Hold your breath, count to ten [8]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairy Tale Elements, Gorgon! Akaashi, M/M, Prince! Bokuto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27209296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redroseinsanity/pseuds/redroseinsanity
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a prince and a gorgon. A hero and a monster. Or so they say...In which Bokuto Koutarou is a dashing prince and Akaashi Keiji doesnotneed saving.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: Hold your breath, count to ten [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980692
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77
Collections: Haikyuu Horror Week





	Let down your hair

**Author's Note:**

> For Haikyuu Horror Week 2020!
> 
> This is my first time writing horror so I’m excited but also apologetic if this is not on par with your expectations. In that vein, I’m not sure if I’m tagging this as well as I should be, so if at any point you feel like you want to nope out, please do!

**Day 8:**

**a heart like stone / ~~breaking the unbreakable~~ / locked away in a tower / he speaks / ~~an evil creation / what’s on the other side of the wall?~~**

The day is fair when Koutarou finds the tower. It's strange for he must have passed this part of the woods before, but never has he seen the dark grey stone tower despite its impressive stature. 

He wheels his horse around, a majestic white steed that has seen him through hunts and battles, is as fearless as him and unceasingly loyal. 

Prince Bokuto, known for traversing the land and performing heroic acts, he's the nation's darling. There, in the hot afternoon sun, he looks the part with his bright golden eyes and noble countenance. His ivory hair seems to glow so that even without his crown, he's adorned with a pale halo. 

Many will sing of his victories to say that he is without fear. This is false, Koutarou knows fear, he is simply willing to face it head on and he does so with the intention of fighting it and winning. Which is why he calls up to the tiny window at the very top in a booming voice without apprehension nor precaution. 

"Is anybody there?"

His answer is a sleek length of rope that catches the sunlight as it uncoils down the length of the tower. 

Koutarou grins. _A challenge_. 

Upon closer inspection, the material of the rope is not like anything he's seen before, it's smooth and tightly twined with little reflective parts that wink at him in iridescent colours. Tugging it to test how it holds, he nods, satisfied by its strength before slowly, steadily, beginning to climb. 

Halfway up, his foot slips and without any traction, he's left dangling at a precarious height, hands feverishly gripping at the coil of rope in his grasp. For a few heart-stopping seconds, his muscles seize as his entire body weight is swung onto his arms and his feet scrabble for purchase only to find air. 

It is in those fleeting moments that he realizes how gorgeous the view is and yet, how tiny and distant all of it seems, like a painting that you're not allowed to touch or a miniature game set. 

Then his boot makes blessed contact with the gritty surface of the tower and he gives an almighty heave to continue his ascent. 

By the time he hauls himself over the sill of that itty bitty window, his skin is slick with sweat and his hands are reddened and abraded, tiny spots of scarlet blooming like flowers. But he's made it and so he leans his head back onto the cool stone wall and tries to catch his breath. 

"Oh," A mildly displeased voice sounds from the gloom, "It's you."

Immediately, Koutarou brightens, golden eyes shining as he grins widely. 

"You know me?"

"Who doesn't know you?" The voice is a muddled concoction of scathing derision and pure statement, either way, it sounds like silver in its raw form—brilliant and unbreakable. 

"I've never seen this tower before," Koutarou asks, setting his feet down and peering into the shadows that seem undispersed by the strong sunlight outside, "Have you always been here?"

There's a long pause, enough for Koutarou to take a tentative step forwards, hand on the hilt of his sword. 

"Not always," The voice has turned slightly thoughtful, "But for a long time now."

"Is it always this dark?" The question slips out before he can stop it and it hangs in the middle of the room, disappearing with the light. 

Again, a pregnant silence that has Koutarou taking another two steps in. He finds that the darkness envelops him, cleaves to his skin and embraces him like a lover until the sunlight from behind seems to have faded into a muted colour. 

"It is dark," The voice is cold, more forbidding than before and it feels like a blade slicing through the air, "Because if it was light enough to see me, you would try to kill me."

Koutarou takes a moment to consider that, his stance relaxing somewhat although his hand never leaves his sword. 

"Does this mean you don't need saving?" Is what he wants to know after pondering. 

"Is that your question?" It sounds exasperated now but Koutarou just nods, a small, easy smile on his lips. 

There's a rush of air and a faint hiss, Koutarou's intuition has him drawing his sword although he doesn't lunge, only holds it out carefully. Slowly, like a damp cloth wiping dirt away in gentle swipes, the darkness scatters enough for just a hint of a figure to appear, far closer than Koutarou had expected. 

As soon as he sees the moving crown atop the figure's head, he knows exactly what he's dealing with and yet, he lowers his sword. The nest of tiny snakes weave over each other, glide down a smooth neck and curve along a strong shoulder. 

"Gorgon," He breathes and as though agitated, the mane of serpents writhe before settling back down. 

"Since you know," The voice sounds rather frustrated, "Why have you put down your sword?"

"Why would I raise my sword when you haven't attacked me even though you probably could have?" Koutarou argues and the tiny serpents poke out their little forked tongues, slipping over each other as though in distress. 

A shift so swift that Koutarou barely has time to register it has the shadows rapidly clearing and the gorgon appearing directly in front of him. 

Instinct has him shutting his eyes, curiosity has him prying them open and he comes eye to eye with a dark gaze that… Doesn't turn him to stone. 

Koutarou holds himself very still as the dark blue eyes that have yet to kill him linger over the lines of his face, down the length of his sword and then back up, golden meeting navy. 

"You are not afraid," It's phrased like a statement, but even in the liquid silver voice, it sounds like a question. Koutarou frowns. 

"You could kill me and yet here I stand," He tilts his head, "Should I be afraid?"

"They have always been afraid," The gorgon informs him but his voice is brittle now, as though the spite in it only serves as a thin layer of ice behind which something else lurks, "Leave now, do not return."

"What?" Koutarou is bewildered, "You're kicking me out? And they who?"

The gorgon huffs a sigh in a surprisingly inelegant fashion, and gestures roughly to what Koutarou had thought was a stone wall. 

It's not. There, crammed in a corner, are statues squeezed with statues, overlapping and each one incredibly life-like. 

Koutarou doesn't need to examine the precision-like details on each sculpture to know that they weren't always stone, but he does take a sweeping glance and notice one thing.

"You're not going to hurt me," The gorgon looks at him, surprised, as Koutarou says this lightly, pointing at the heavy figures, "They're all attacking, look at the movements. You did this in self-defense. But I'm not going to hurt you so you're not going to turn me to stone."

As he speaks, he points out the large strides in the legs of each statue, the way a knife is clutched in a fist while another raises his sword above his head in a charge. Their mouths are gaping in a soundless battlecry and yet, Koutarou cannot imagine wanting to hurt this magnificent being before him. 

"What's your name?" When it occurs to him that they've not been properly introduced. 

Surprise flares briefly in those bottomless eyes before the gorgon's expression is schooled into something unreadable. But the scales on the little snakes flash as they wind more tightly around each other, as though fidgeting anxiously. 

"Keiji," Keiji's lips move over pointed teeth, his pale face is nothing like the myths of yore depicting terrifying creatures. Gorgons are meant to be hideous, monstrous, a fearsome thing to behold. 

All Koutarou sees is someone who, like him, has been hidden away by stories and legends. And he knows how lonely that existence is. 

"Are you here to kill me then?" Keiji's question startles Koutarou so much that he nearly drops his sword and opts to tuck it back into its scabbard. 

"Wha- Why would I want to kill you?" Koutarou exclaims, mildly offended, "I thought you needed saving!"

"Some of them knew what I was before they came," Keiji's voice is still like a gleaming argon thread but it's quiet now, sad, "They didn't try to kill me because I'm ugly, they wanted me. My head. As a weapon."

Koutarou knows the stories, he knows gorgon heads can petrify people, turn them to stone. They're excellent weapons but thus far, they've only been fairy tales, told to children or around a fireplace. 

The thought of Keiji being hunted like prey makes his stomach turn and his hands curl into fists. 

"You're not ugly!" Is what he bursts out with, indignation and anger like fire in his belly. 

For once, Keiji fails to control his expression and the stunned confusion painting his face as he blinks, makes him look suddenly, very child-like. It makes Koutarou want to enfold him in his arms and it's so unexpected an urge that he momentarily forgets what he's about to say. 

Then the tiny hiss of one of the snakes that is Keiji's hair snaps him out of it and he points directly to the little creature. 

"How can this be ugly? They're gorgeous. The rope you threw down has these pretty colourful bits that throw back the light and they're scales aren't they? They're from you," Koutarou has approached while he speaks, staring intently at Keiji's hair, so he sees the tiny nod that Keiji gives which makes the entire crown of snakes on his head gleam, a multi-coloured glittering display. 

"But everybody says so," Comes the heartbreaking whisper and it arouses in Koutarou an emotion so fiercely protective that he scares himself somewhat. 

"Then they should all come and talk to me," Koutarou declares and Keiji sighs and makes to reply before freezing. 

Because one of the errant serpents from Keiji's hair is inspecting Koutarou's outstretched finger and decides to nuzzle it before stretching to its full length to explore the rest of Koutarou's palm. 

It tickles, and the scales are a smooth, dry sensation across Koutarou's skin. Koutarou has a boisterous character, exuberant and hardly containable. But in this moment, he's gentle, tender, wordlessly opening up his hand so that the miniscule serpent can inch up and examine it. 

His large golden eyes are full of awe and glee when he looks up to meet Keiji's astonished ones. There's a measure of bashfulness in Keiji's features as well and Koutarou is instantly delighted.

It's like cracking a mineral open to discover the shimmering precious stone inside. Koutarou has always prided himself on being as noble, as brave, as determined as he possibly can be. But when it comes down to something like this, he finds that he's human after all, and greedy for more. 

The moment shatters when Keiji jerks away taking a series of steps backwards until he's practically pressed against the wall. 

"I apologise," He swallows and Koutarou can see him slowly retreating into himself so he takes a leap. 

"I liked it!" Now it's Keiji's turn to stare at Koutarou, chest heaving and brow furrowing

"I like your snakes and I like your eyes and I think you're really amazing to have turned all these awful people into stone," Koutarou continues, earnest and pleading, heart thumping in his ears. 

Gorgons are known for their solitude, but Koutarou is abruptly and painfully aware that the solitude is quite likely not by choice. Not when the world has written them as monsters the same way it has written him a two dimensioned hero. 

"Bokuto-san," And Koutarou perks up, because it's not 'Prince Bokuto', nor is it 'Your Highness', "Since we have established that I do not need saving and neither do you, and that we are not about to kill each other for glory or for use, what exactly do you want?"

Koutarou stalls, thinking about the way 'Bokuto-san' falls from the gorgon's lips, about how he wouldn't mind hearing that for a long time, how although it's not 'Koutarou', it's far better than anything anyone has called him in a while. 

"I want you to save me," He says eventually with a sort of finality that has Keiji's mouth falling open in shock. 

But Koutarou has come to realise that Keiji's hairful of snakes are more telling of his true emotions that he allows himself to be and so he watches the slim bodies as they quiver with indecision. 

"You what?" Keiji utters in a stunned voice, and oh, how Koutarou wants that liquid silver voice wrapped around his name.

"We’re both living lives that others have designated for us, don’t you want to try living your own?” Koutarou can tell Keiji does by the slight sharp inhale and the way his snakes curl and wave gently as though in silent agreement. He takes slow steps, boots noiseless on the hard floor, until he can reach for Keiji’s hand. 

The gorgon’s skin is cool and smooth under Koutarou’s warm hands, he leaves his grip loose, so that Keiji can take his hand back if he wants. He does not. 

“I’ll save you, you’ll save me,” Koutarou is soft but firm, not in a demand but in an offer, full of hope and promise, “Leave this place, come with me, let's go on an adventure.”

Keiji appears to be pondering, the tiny serpents looping midair as the rigid expression melts off his face, his eyes flickering to the window, to the sunshine. 

Slowly, tentatively, Keiji's fist unfurls and closes over Koutarou's hand. 

**Author's Note:**

> I should also be posting concurrently on [tumblr](https://redroseinsanity.tumblr.com/) as well. Come say hi!


End file.
